


5 Times Natasha Kept An Eye On Peter

by Reshma



Series: GEMSTONES IN THE ROUGH [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Attempted Murder, Canon-Typical Violence, Civil War Fix-It, Dark Peter Parker, Domestic Avengers, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Natasha Is A Scary Russian, Natasha Romanov Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Other, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Podfic Length: 0-10 Minutes, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Protective Natasha Romanov, Sensory Overload, Social Media, Soft Peter Parker, Spider-mom, Spies & Secret Agents, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, natasha is a mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-11-19 09:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18133703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reshma/pseuds/Reshma
Summary: + 1 Time Peter Kept An Eye On Her





	1. 1.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Bah Humbug](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17103101) by [Reshma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reshma/pseuds/Reshma). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What inspired this you may ask?  
> This excerpt from my Bah Humbug fic
> 
> “because they both are scary Russians with a knack for never staying still. Her posture is rigid and she’s expressionless but Tony knows better. She can deny it to everyone but she’s more maternal towards Peter than she is towards Wanda. Maybe even more than Pepper. Natasha has seen a lot in her life and been a light throughout Tony’s dark times as a hero but this isn’t the same. This is something she may never forgive him for.”
> 
> And this line from Romeo and Juliet:  
> “I dreamt my lady came and found me dead. Strange dream, give a dead man leave to think”
> 
> What.

1.

Natasha Romanoff is not a woman to be challenged.

She's killed more people than Nick Fury has met in his entire lifetime and has an unnerving calmness to her presence at all times. She’s been through the wringer a couple of times more than she’ll admit within the Red Room and raised all hell to get where she is. She’s an Avenger and, damned or not, she works her ass off and the red in her ledger is the exact evidence.

So, when she is left to her own devices around Spider-Man's secret identity, Stark really should have known better.

It starts after Germany. She's dyed her hair blonde and bleached her eyebrows as to draw little attention to herself, surprisingly, in the middle of Times Square. Her usual crimson red hair and kevlar jumpsuit are laying somewhere upstate in a box at the facility but it's not really her home at the moment. It's minutes after midnight on a Wednesday in February and the city is alive with restlessness.

Home. She's never been used to staying in one place for too long or surveilling a mark for more than a few weeks. She's fast and efficient as an assassin and spy but as a functioning person with emotions… well, Clint is always the first to see her crack and trust her when she was the least trustworthy. He’s been her saving grace when she was lying about every part about herself when she first came into S.H.I.E.L.D. as an agent, not a target.

The Rogues were pardoned but there are still too many Americans around that genuinely hate the ex-Avengers. She's not exactly hiding, she can certainly hold her own and scare the living shit out of anyone that so much as tries to intimidate her, but it's better to stay in the edges of the shadows than the limelight.

So, when she sees Spider-Man, a vigilante that the media love to attack, in the middle of a tourist trap, she's a little a taken back.

Maybe she thought the kid behind the mask would be a little more discreet with the recent rise in the anti-Avenger movement or maybe it's just been awhile since she's been allowed to be so public with being a superhero. Whatever it is, his brazen appearance while flocks of foreigners snap their cameras up to catch a photo of him isn't exactly the epitome of espionage or subtle.

As curious as Spider-Man is to her and her inhibition, she decides that whatever shit he can get himself into, he can probably get himself out of.

She's made her way through the crowded areas of Times Square in Manhattan and is in the shadows of an alley between a hotel and a pub when a blur of red and blue dances into her vision. She's been discussing a few things with Stark in upstate New York near Albany and has taken a Friday night to herself. Staying at the Compound still makes her feel a little out of her comfort level despite Sam, Clint, Steve, Bucky and Wanda’s return.

It's not exactly her home yet and she still feels like the rug could be pulled out from underneath her feet. The Avengers are still being glued back together and just because Vision and Bruce are permanent residents of the facility doesn't mean her trust is fully instilled in this ‘team’.

Spider-Man is perched on a skyscraper with narrowed white eyes on his mask on the opposite side of the street and seems to be staring past her location.

She hasn't asked Tony, the man always running with a million ideas on the other side of the world and a trillion things to do, about the recruit from Germany. The few times she's seen Happy mention ‘insect problems’ in a hushed voice while they're both in New York, Nat has caught Stark's face in the corner of her eye twitching his fingers and rolling his eyes in a friendly way she's only seen reserved for the team before Vienna.

She's not stupid. The vigilante wears Stark tech and Tony hasn't exactly been telling the truth in the team discussions about recent threats. With her time on the run, she couldn't afford to look into the webslinger with her limited resources.

But now...

As he flies through the air past the hustle and bustle of the city's streets, she undetectably follows his movements into a back alley; sharply pointed toes quiet among the asphalt and never moving too fast to draw suspicion among civilians while keeping her eyes down and face drawn into a neutral expression.

When she rounds a corner, Spider-Man is webbing up a man up that's cursing at him with an older Italian dialect. She's at least ten yards away from the superhero and her back is leaning against a brick wall in an adjacent pathway to the alley. His hair is graying at what's left from his receding hairline and his eyes are hidden beneath a broken pair of Gucci glasses. His clothes look tossed up and one of his loafers are missing. There's a .45 ACP laying a few feet away and two middle aged men, his bodyguards she assumes, passed out underneath the gangster's angry figure. She recognizes the carefully planned setup of these henchmen smuggling their leader into public places without much scrutiny; aiding and abetting and all that.

Mob boss and drug lord, Nat's mind supplies at a second glance. Alonzo Caruso, an Italian crime lord; the NYPD have failed to intervene with his operations of suspected unsolved murders and influx of cocaine, meth and heroin. He's one of the FBI's Most Wanted for the major drug cartels he runs and has been eluding arrest for about three years. As much as getting rid of the Don won't eliminate the entire gang, she can't help but smirk. The kid's maybe got enough guts and street smarts to do this hero thing.

“That's not nice to say, Corleone!” She hears him snarkily reply. Then, in an exaggeratedly bad Italian accent, he says, “I don't like violence! Blood is a big expense.”

She rolls her eyes internally. He's cocky and a rookie with a personality, that's for sure. 

“I'll fucking kill you,” The geezer practically seethes and tries to spit at the kid as the latter ducks and laughs a little.

“And I would've gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for those meddling kids!” Spidey animatedly mocks in a Scooby-Doo-esque voice before she hears him address the voice from inside his suit.

Eight million people, five boroughs and a new generation of supers, and this is who's saving the streets of New York? Natasha's mouth settles into an unimpressed line and she can feel her soul being sucked out of her from her time around Spider-Man. She hears police sirens blaring a few blocks away.

Kids these days, she huffs.

She's about to slink backwards and leave the scene to the only guy Queens could scrounge up when several shadowy figures begin to quickly move towards Spidey from a gravel pathway. The masculine shadows are each at least a foot taller than the spandex clad hero, all much broader and are approaching him in the exact area of his blindspot.

He's turned towards the dead end alley with his criminal catch of the night and partially oblivious to his doom because of adrenaline. 

As much as it's not her business to involve herself in other's affairs (maybe it's the aspect of her fighting for civilians as an Avenger instead of against like her days in the KGB), but the instinct to interfere takes over her legs before her mind can make that decision for her.

She ducks down slightly, almost crawling in the darkness, before she trips one of the men and flips him onto his back. Spider-Man’s head whips towards the commotion as the other two men rush him and her assailant tries to strangle her.

The urge to take out her gun is strong but she has a hand on her Widow's Bite one second, and the next, the man is seizing back on the ground from the electric currents of her weapon.

The two other men have already engaged in cornering Spider-Man as the enhanced defender is stumbles backwards after being stabbed lightly.

He's crouching slightly with his fingers outstretched to web the men up, back turned to the Don, when Natasha catches a flash of metal behind him.

Caruso has managed to poke his hand out in between the webs and is positioning a Beretta right at the vigilante’s head.

No. Absolutely not.

She may not like how annoying his banter, the flashiness of the best tech out there or how the world seems to adore him, but she's not about to watch someone die for doing the work of the police.

In an instant, she's in front of the gun and trying to relinquish control without getting shot and this fucker is kicking at her goddamn sh-

Bang.

The sound rings in her ears and there's smoke discharging in puffs from the muzzle.

The bullet is wedged between her armored gloves as she finally yanks the pistol away and dismantles it into pieces. Thank fucking God for Starks precaution measures for her civilian wear. The barrel and trigger break easily as they tumble to the ground.

There's a pause and then, "Are you alright? Do I know you, ma'am?"

"Fine." She replies calmly while keeping her accent neutral. In the dark night, she knows that there's the illumination of her leer towards him and the sirens are getting closer. She really doesn't need an encounter with anti-Avenger NYPD officers on her night off.

"Miss, I- Thanks.” Spider-Man is craning his head and his eyes are scruntinziing her as he flails to keep his wound at bay. There's crystal colored webbing patching up the tear of his suit. At least he's safe and for Natasha, that's enough.

He can't see her whole face. Good, she figures. She bends down to retrieve her Widow's Bite before saying, “Be seeing you, Spider-Man.” 

With a glare and smirk on her face, she walks out of shadows and disappears back onto 47th Street. Just as police arrive, Spider-Man shakes his head in confusion and asks K.A.R.E.N., "Who the hell was that?"


	2. 2.

2.

The day she meets Peter Parker is an eventful one, to say the least.

It’s about an hour before a standard scheduled Avengers’ meeting about current threats and ‘official’ protocols being put in place. The Accords haven’t completely dissipated into nothing but the United Nations still has a say in their involvement on lower-stakes missions. The first few interactions after the pardon between the Rogues and official Avengers were tense. Wanda and Vision had this look in their eyes and it was pretty much a confirmation into her suspicions that she had been disappearing to meet up with them. Sam had been stubborn around Tony and Clint didn't stop the bite in his words from surfacing. Steve had slammed the table just as Rhodes and Vision were defending many of the safeguards that would prevent them from going off the face of the world again.

“That’s enough!” He had exploded. “If we’re going to be a team, this has to stop. I don’t care what happened in the past, we are not children, goddammit.”

It had been a rough start to the year. Barnes, Wilson and Rogers had stayed on their side of the Compound and Wanda and Vision hovered near theirs. Things had gradually gotten better at breakfasts, and aside from Stark, they were all working as a unit. There weren’t many calls for the entire team to assemble and breakfasts became a sort of pleasant surprise albeit certain members of the team exploding over empty cereal boxes and Franken out of milk cartons.  
Clint was practically joined with her at the hip, he was still somewhat wary and stayed mostly around their quarters. He had seemed apprehensive and almost resentful. Aside from stealing her homemade Солянка and unsubtle tendencies of a spy, Barton is still a decent partner in their operations busting HYDRA bases. Bruce still manages to escape most arguments by fleeing to his lab to work on bio-organics or blood work, the traitor.

They’re not quite a team yet but Natasha will be damned if she lets what she has left of a family evaporate into thin air again.

The meeting isn’t high stakes but Stark is showing up soon. Everyone, exempt from the aforementioned, is gathered around the communal area watching some god awful animated movie about баллон. There’s a domestic sort of buzz, peaceful for once, a chatter and an intense argument about what classifies as the classic Disney movies.

“Snow White was so boring!” Clint defensively cries as he flicks some of her Doritos into his mouth. She’s sat on a single sofa chair and Clint’s perched on the armrest near her bowl of chips. Natasha, unsurprisingly, narrows her eyes and shoves him off as he falls to his ass. “She didn’t do shit other than sing to tone deaf birds.”

“Says the superhero who’s deaf and named after a fucking hawk,” Bruce drones as Clint scowls and dusts himself off. The doctor is awkwardly sat at the other sofa chair near Wanda and Vision with a hologram propped open in front of him displaying numbers and codes. When Natasha catches his eye, he blushes profusely and goes back to his screen.

“Rogers doesn’t like that kind of talk,” Natasha jokes and Steve throws someone’s hoodie at her, missing terribly.

“Careful,” Wanda smiles warmly as she leans into Vision’s frame on a loveseat across the room. “We are talking about an ancient artifact to a dinosaur.”

Steve shakes his head exasperatedly and responds, “The war hadn't started yet and it was some phenomenon everyone was buzzing about. It was some revolution for American film.”

”He still saw it twice at the theatres.” Bucky laughs and Rogers ducks his head down as his face turns cherry red on the sofa. Wilson is in the nearby kitchen making them smoothies, something to help with their sugar intake or some bullshit like that.

It’s… nice. Things are still cracked around the edges but every day they’re not actively clawing each other’s throats out when they wake up is progress. Natasha leans back and relaxes into the soft fabric of the chair.

She could get used to this.

“Ow, fuck!” An unknown, younger male voice hisses out quietly from a few rooms away. The atmosphere goes deathly quiet.

Well then, nevermind.

Steve is already on his feet as he whispers with something dark in his eyes “Vision, keep the entrances secure. Wanda, Clint and Buck watch our six. Nat, Sam and I will rush him.”

“Why do I have to babysit?” Clint interjects as he readies his bow and everyone moves quickly and quietly to the door.

“Wait guys-” Bruce feebly tries to warn but the communal room empties before his very eyes. He sighs and buries his head into his hands.  
\------------

Before she can blink, there are six Avengers in Bruce’s private lab cornering some child that’s stubbed his toe.

Rogers has the poor kid pinned to the ground as Natasha has a gun trained at his throat. Wanda is hovering a few feet away with the door slammed shut. Clint is examining the lab for any obvious items missing or disturbed, leading with his arrow, and Wilson is surveying the area for any entry points and other intruders.

“Ow, ow- Sorry!” As he kicks Rogers off of him and in the stomach. Before he can stand up, Barnes is there nailing his shoulder to the ground with his metal arm as the kid groans in pain. “Shit!”

“Stay down. You’ll only make this worse for yourself.” Natasha says cooly.

Gosh, the kid is tiny but muscular. He can’t be older than seventeen and his voice is high pitched, so yeah, maybe younger. There’s no discernible accent and Steve raids his backpack and pockets; with no sign of a weapon, he finds textbooks, binders and some house keys. The kid’s got brown hair, brown eyes and some ratty clothes that are crumpled with shoes that have obvious signs of wear.

“There’s no one else here but it could still be a set-up.” Clint’s tone is grave as he scans the room wildly like someone will pop out like a cartoon.

“I told you, I’m alone! I didn’t do anyth-”

“Except break in.” Sam says flatly as he relaxes his stance and wanders near Barnes. “Who else is here? How did you get past security? Is this supposed to be an ambush?”

“No! No! It’s nothing like that!” The kid looks terrified at Bucky’s cold stare and twists up to meet Nat’s gaze. “Where’s Bruce? He can explain, I promi-”

“Be quiet.” Sam says. “You’re obviously here for the Hulk,” He leans over Roger’s shoulder to look at a Student I.D. card. “so you’re not getting anywhere near him.”

Natasha can feel a migraine coming on because this feels wrong. He's a kid, and, sure the KGB used her when she was younger, but there's some instinct inside telling her that he's telling the truth. Maybe it's in the way that he's not outfitted with any tech or just the fact that he's cooperating.

“What are you here for? Assassination? Tech? Research? Are you HYDRA? Foreign government?” Steve barks out.

“What’s your real name?” Barnes grills. “Peter Parker sounds like the worst possible cover your superior could come up with.”

“Fucking great,” ‘Peter’ replies and slumps onto the floor.

“Call Hill.” Clint suggests. “The UN will detain him fo-”

“Don’t.” Natasha interjects as she squats near him and stares intensely into his eyes. There's something amiss. Though HYDRA isn't known for using the smartest tactics, Peter isn't obviously aggressive or remotely qualified to be an agent. He's clumsy and a bit childish.

Wanda’s eyes are glowing and her fingers are glowing bright red. Only Natasha notices when the light dies in her eyes that something wistful and fierce blooms, and she knows, she knows that Maximoff has seen some truth that she wasn’t expecting. “There’s no need for the authorities,” She says clearly as Sam gapes at her.

“Wanda, wha-” Steve’s suddenly cut off by heavy footsteps and yelling.

“What the fuck is going on in here?!” Stark’s voice booms so loudly that the kid jumps and everyone in the room whirls to see Tony's figure.

“Intrusion on the south east wing, he bypassed F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s security and was wandering around Banner's computer.” Steve says plainly, as if it's obvious. “Probably HYDRA or the Russians-”

Definitely not the Russians, Natasha thinks.

“That,” Tony snaps irritatedly, “is my intern, Peter. He's here for his lab session with Bruce.” Tony is moments away from shoving Barnes off his kid when the kid finally is let go of.

“Mr. Stark.” Peter gasps out worriedly. “I didn't mean to- I just.”

Tony's eyes go soft momentarily and he reaches his arm out towards the kid before saying, “It's fine, Bambi. You didn't do anything wrong.”

The whole room is devoid of tension and, instead, full of bewilderment.

“You can't expect us to know about every little science experiment and whether they're permitted or not.” Steve grits his teeth and quips out.

“Watch it, Rogers,” Tony practically growls and checks Peter over for injuries. “You're lucky I don't sick Ross on you for injuring a minor.”

“That's enough!” Natasha yells to stop the interrogation. This is not how a team is supposed to act. Everyone is scrutinizing the kid and it's unnerving Natasha. “Leave it alone. It was simple misunderstanding. No harm done.” Peter's eyes are grateful towards her as Tony purses his lips and nods curtly.

“Since when does Stark Industries hire middle schoolers as interns?” Sam’s tone is suspicious and Nat's perfectly bleached eyebrow is arched poisedly as she clicks her gun's safety back on

“I’m fifteen!” The kid’s voice cracks a little and coughs to cover it up. Wilson snorts as Barnes watches cautiously from the doorway.

“Not helping yourself, Pete.” Bruce mumbles behind them.

“Did you know about this?” Steve incredulously asks Banner as he enters the room, face flushed with guilt.

Bruce just tilts his head confusedly, “None of you asked. Peter’s a genius. I work with him on my research and his nightly Spi-”

“Sports.” Tony loudly cuts him off. Natasha knows it's a lame excuse of a save but for what, she knows not. “Peter's in Academic Decathlon; an intellectual unlike some of the behemoths at this facility.”

Bruce, curiously, narrows his eyes amusedly at Tony without protest. “Absolutely.”

“Obviously a genius if he can scam his way into Stark's circus of a company.” Clint mumbles and Tony rolls his eyes. Just like that, the room is much calmer and there's no looming danger.

“Well,” Tony interjects, “As fun as this has been watching you nearly butcher my employee to death, we have more important things to be attending to. But if I find out anything like this happens again,” The engineer's octave dips and his mood is serious. “we may need to rethink housing accommodations.”

Just like that, Stark is out the door with Peter scrambling behind him.

“What just happened?” Sam wonders aloud.

‘You guys have been gone too long.” Bruce says to the group. “Things have changed. Tony… that’s his kid, you know?”

“So, some mother filed for child support now? After fifteen years? Why wasn’t she in the tabloids, then?” Bucky asks. Natasha doesn’t quite trust it and something feels off. She's missing something and her gut intuition is rarely wrong.

“What? No.” Bruce shakes his head a little disappointedly. “Peter's not his son. Tony’s taken to being a mentor much more than you’d expect.”

“You know more than you’re saying, Bruce.” Clint accuses, eyebrows furrowed. “I thought we agreed to no secrets as a team.”

“It’s not exactly team business.” Bruce says. “And it's not my place to say.” With that, Bruce turns on his heel and leaves the lab.

\------

Later that night, she finds Peter in the group training gym punching a heavy bag with a pair of boxing gloves on.

Bucky is stood near him, correcting his stance with his good arm and watching. The two seem to be getting along and Parker isn't on edge.

Of everyone in the Compound, the last person she expected to immediately befriend the new addition to the compound was the Winter Soldier.

(“He reminds me of Steve when he was younger.” Bucky will mention to her months later in Russian. “Just as stupid and determined to get himself into the fight.”)

“Ms. Black Widow- Ma'am, I,- I mean, thank you for earlier.” The kid's sweating a lot and he’s just noticed her hanging near the two of them closely.

“You really should watch yourself, not everyone out there is as friendly as you might think.”

She just takes it a little personally when strangers suddenly appear around her family.

So, maybe she bares her teeth in a smile that’s unnecessarily vicious as Peter widens his eyes and tilts his chin upwards in a challenge.

He's not afraid, but smiling. Hmph. She thinks she likes him.

“Natalia!” Barnes barks. “достаточно. Оставь нас.” At least she knows Bucky has trust in him. It takes a lot for the former HYDRA operative to be himself around the team, much less someone new.

So, maybe she's a tad over protective. As she leaves the gym, she chuckles to herself for being intimidating. She might as well strap in for the long haul because her crazy family has already welcomed him in, like it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tries to finish this in less than 24 hours*  
> I don't even have much prewritten, I'm just annoying.  
> \- Reshma


	3. 3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit of a precursor into the next installment of this series. Very x-men esque and mutant centric.

3.  
Weeks pass and life goes on.

Spider-Man’s hidden identity bothers Natasha more than a little. Finding out who Ant-Man or the Black Panther wasn't even this difficult. It doesn't make matter easier that every gossip magazine that alludes to his age never follows up after each article is posted. Natasha suspects that a certain billionaire may be paying them off.

There's obviously a connection between them but Spider-Man seems annoyingly optimistic for Stark's taste.

It's not that he's a threat, just that she seems to be seeing him involved in more and more of the Avengers’ line of work. He's gone from being mostly based in Queens to most of New York and parts of the East Coast. When Doc Ock took over Harlem last month, the Avengers were called to take down DoomBots and Spider-Man showed up. The news has highlighted his takedowns with small time gangs and preventing random murders throughout the boroughs.

It's important to know who her friends are in her occupation. It's still a toss up with the vigilante and she seems to be the only one who’s one edge about that fact.

Even without an identity reveal, he hasn't signed the Accords and Ross with have her head if she doesn't try.

The day she goes to corner the all mighty Iron Man about his involvement with the hero from Queens, Peter and Tony are sleeping soundly on a couch in Stark's living room on his side of the Compound. It's around four in the evening on a Wednesday in March.

Pepper is sitting on the across from them in a sofa chair reading a few articles on a projected hologram with some half eaten takeout food on the table in front of her. When she notices Natasha, the latter's face is inquisitive and presence demanding.

Pepper looks composedly into Nat's eyes then at her Rolex watch and finally stands up. She taps her lips with one finger to signal silence and walks down a corridor and motions Natasha to join her in a nearby study.

As Natasha closes the door, Rhodes sits up straight in his desk chair before greeting her and pulling out another chair for Pepper. “I take it that this isn't a social issue, Romanoff.” 

Tasha cuts right to the chase. “I'd like to know about Iron Man's involvement with Spider-Man.”

The answer she gets is expectedly textbook from Pepper. “Stark Industries is not involved with any public figures aside from the registered Avengers listed in the Sokovia Acc-”

“Pepper.” Nat cuts in.

She purses his lips and sighs. “I leave for Amsterdam soon but I couldn't say much even if I had the time. Tony found him and brought him to Germany. He made Spider-Man a suit. He's been keeping him on the right side of justice since then. Bruce has done some medical tests but mostly just been there for serious injuries.”

“Rhodey, come on.” She groans in frustration. “The Avengers need more than that if we're going to protect the world. I can't do that if we're on opposite sides of the Accords.”

Rhodes looks unimpressed but somewhat sympathetic. “I hear what you're saying and, trust me, I've had this same conversation with Tones, but I can't say more, Nat. I'm not going to break a promise about this.”

“If we can't recruit Spider-Man to sign the Accords, then we're all screwed. Can I at least get Stark to bring him to a meeting?”

“No. That's not up for discussion.” Pepper bristles acutely. “I know your game and I'm not playing, Ms. Romanoff.”

“You know him.” She deducts and her tone is flat. Does no one care about the obvious matter of danger to civilians and Spider-Man’s possible relatives because of his status and hidden identity? It’s putting a lot more than her peace of mind at high risk.

Even with the faux desperation in her eyes, Rhodey still shakes his head in denial. “Sorry, ‘Tasha, I don't need Pepper after me right now.”

Rhodey then leaves back to his military base and Pepper to her private jet waiting outside the Compound, both using the nearby elevator. As Natasha tiptoes out of the study and back into the living room, she sees that Peter is sprawled uncomfortably on the sofa. His neck is hanging in an odd angle and his leg is twisted in a way that she's pretty sure is not humanly possible. Tony is still dozed off with his frame resting beneath the kid's. As much as she would love to shove Stark off and cackle at him, she's more concerned with Pete. It’s that weird maternal reflex taking over her again and she's still a bit freaked out by it.

Peter has been over at the Compound more often and Natasha has grown… accustomed to his presence. She is not being a ‘helicopter parent’ as Wilson puts it, thanks very much, but it’s become easy to see him as an addition to the Compound. Maybe it’s the fact that she truly believed that she would never have this opportunity with kids; why would she want them anyway? Crying and temper tantrums and diapers and annoying children’s music? She’ll pass.  
But with this teenager, it’s so different; like breathing out and breathing in. He’s insanely intelligent and quick on his feet. There’s always the joy in the air when Peter comes upstate; the fight for who exactly will be spending time with him and for how long.

Bruce's eyes dance with fascination at his blueprint for a suit-based filter for the Great Pacific Garbage Patch dilemma or plan to develop a energizing a vaccine with therapeutics to help contain the measles outbreak. Tony rambles through hundreds of additions and enhancements for Iron Man suit and Peter quips back with well thought out suggestions, leaning forward on a wooden stool in the workshop to adjust the wire bonders connecting to the microchip as Mr. Stark lies on his back underneath the drone with a Variable Shade Lens, wielding the carbon sequestration for atmospheric scrubbing shut. Steve doesn't hesitate to help him with his stance as he tackles him to the ground and keeps Peter exhausted as he repeats the same moves for hours and locks it into his muscle memory. If any teenager was given the chance to train with Captain America, Natasha supposes the offer would be too good to refuse. Bucky’s taken to cooking with the kid; he’s gone on about how his aunt will eventually burn their apartment down, so Barnes has stepped up as a sort of bodyguardish teacher. He’s defensive when Nat brings it up but she knows better than he thinks. Sam keeps the room light and monitors Peter's diet despite his teenager tendencies, the only voice of reason in the tower. Wanda and Vision are there to help him control his emotions. Wanda has recently taken it upon herself to be a meditation coach of sorts and uses her mind manipulation powers to help her teenager counterpart destress and stay zen; Vision tries to contribute as much as the android can.

It took her awhile to warm up to him but she realizes now that she never stood a chance with his toothy grin and his rambling about the newest Avengers’ missions and police reports. For a family that was already cracked at the surface, Peter Parker has brought the team together is an unexpected turn of events.

She’ll spar with him and teach him a few words in different languages. She works with him for help with English class and Geography. When it’s just the two of them for the afternoon, she’ll watch movies with him or come up with alliterations for her teammates to make him giggle. She’ll make him her favorite blend of chamomile tea when he’s stressed or play air hockey when he spends the night over and is restless. He’ll always smile a sort of blistering bright beam at her praise for good grades or training in Tony’s lab and look to shyly in the communal area to her for support when he discusses trips for Decathlon or binge watching all of the Lord of The Rings movies with Ned.

She’d never say it but he’s become someone she can’t imagine life without. She didn’t think she could manage emotions like that after the Red Room but he’s sort of… a son. She knows he’s not hers and she’s met the wrath of May Parker but his aunt seems to like her over the rest of the Rogues and Tony. They’ll sit together on a rare afternoon getting coffee in Forest Hills or gossip about the teachers and her coworkers at the hospital.

(God, she adores him so much that she’s given him a necklace that no one knows about. It was the only thing she had managed to track down from her father, Ivan Romanoff; a black string with an alexandrite stone and the cursive letter ‘R’ engraved smack in the middle. The jewel is vitreous and color changing, switching from red or green in different lights. It lost its meaning to her years ago but she always had wanted to gift it to someone important. She knows Clint would laugh and that Nick would ask if she was drunk but she hadn’t found the proper person to give such a dark part of herself to at the time.

“It’s Russian.” She had chuckled before placing it in his hands and watching him gaze in awe. “It’s a sign of balance and a good omen; it’s supposed to strengthen intuition.”

“Hey, I’m plenty intuitive!” Peter had hit his shoulder against hers before clasping it on and tucking it under his shirt.

They both knew it was a sign of maternal love in that hour.)

She’s noticed for sure in his discussions about ‘other activities’. When Peter says he’ll be in the lab in the evenings and she never finds him, Tony or Bruce will end her inquiries by saying he went back home. At first she chalked it up to his school schedule and his aunt, but after a small confrontation with him and a high pitched stutter, she deems that the kid’s a terrible liar and hiding something. He’s not home or at a friend’s house and he’s not working a part-time job or off with some girl. It concerns her a bit that he’s lying after a relationship she thought was developing well.

It stings that he doesn’t fully trust her.

As much as she knows she should investigate, she was a fucking KGB agent for Christ’s sake, her gut instinct still tells her to trust him. She’s a spy but she won’t betray the trust he has in her unless things escalate.

She gently lifts him up, raising his arm over her shoulder and dragging him on his feet to his guest bedroom. She's not Steve or Bucky with their spectacular super strength but Peter is just a deadweight and she manages. The walls of his room are a dark navy blue and his room is covered in dirty clothes and small gears and bolts from spur-of-the-moment inventions.

She lays Peter on his bed in a more natural state. If she piles a few extra blankets on top of his still figure, his chest moving up and down and his noisy breathing with stuffy nose, well, no one knows.

As Natasha leaves Peter’s rooms and Tony's quarters, Stark is leaning against the counter with a cup of fresh coffee in his hands. When he catches her gaze as she turns to leave, he blushes slightly and sleepily grins. As she walks back to the communal area, Natasha can't help but smile.

God, she’s such a helicopter mom.

\-------

That night is a mission. There's been some psychopath planning to shoot up a pro-mutant rally for elementary school students and parents in Bryant Park and she was only just notified by the New York SWAT division. Some dead beat drop out in his early twenties, Joshua Ballard, with a bad anger management problem and a hatred towards the enhanced. They haven't been able to prove his planned terrorist attack to their superiors; this means he hasn't been arrested and they can only catch the asshole the day of the attack despite his multiple threats on social media and eyewitness account of his itinerary.

Fucking morons the NYPD and the justice system are.

She’s taken to the Upper East Side area with his mugshot fresh on her mind and her guns loaded. Hawkeye is positioned on the top floor of the Empire State Building and using F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s facial recognition software on the ground below; she’s loitering near the subway by 5th Avenue Station waiting for him to emerge from a rental Mazda in an adjacent parking lot. They’ve tracked his travel habits and evasive measures he’s used while wanted for a warrant; he’s got no exit points and there’s no danger to the Manhattan population tonight. There’s already undercover agents attending the rally and she’s relatively certain things will go smoothly. S.W.A.T. thinks they know best and don’t need the extra eyes but her and Clint are the best they can get in the industry, though she’d never say it to his face; his ego it big enough.

There’s a strong crackle of static on the main comm but as she switches to the private one, she can hear her partner’s deep breathing. She should have seen the red flag from then and there, in hindsight.

“‘Tasha.” Clint is antsy and it’s making her nervous. She doesn’t like being in the dark and this isn’t the time for dramatic pauses.

“What?” Her voice is annoyed and she's keeping her head down and her coat drawn close to her body for easy access to her tasers. There are gaggles of religious groups and homeless patrons every few yards, people trying to get her attention and she doesn’t want to explain to Rogers why she jeopardized a mission and the safety of the public because of some stranger.

“What if he doesn’t show?” The Amazing Hawkeye usually isn’t what she’d consider anxious but she can hear the rawness in his voice.

“Relax, Barton. We’ve done this a thousand times before.”

“I just have a bad feeling.” He mumbles and Natasha tunes herself back to her surroundings.

It's a standard set up and, truth be told, she doesn't need a team of armed men to take her mark down. She's spent enough years beside Clint and S.H.I.E.L.D. to never falter or miss when it comes to her aim. 

It’s going to be an easy night, she figures.

Then, Spider-Man swings past her, nearing diving into the cement before landing on top of a digital billboard and stares at her.

The world stops. She’s jostled by some broad man’s luggage as she collides with him and he swears at her. Focus, goddammit. Though she’s not exactly in an optimal disguise, sporting a black wig and sunglasses accompanied a pair of armored leggings, a baseball cap and a long charcoal coat, she’s surprised the webslinger recognizes her.

She cocks an eyebrow in a poised manner, all inquisition on the surface but the loom of a promised threat is hard to miss.

His eyes on the bright red mask squint precisely and study her for a moment. She doesn’t even know the guy but she can sense it; the look he’s giving her by the way he tenses his shoulders, shakes his head involuntarily and his Adam’s apple jerks in a twitch of anger; he’s telling her to stay out it.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She knows that gesture but her brain is offline and she can’t think straight.

Like fucking hell she’s staying out of it.

Spider-Man turns, shoot out a web and she can see him eyeing the man who just bumped her in the streets. Suddenly, the blaring horns and chatter of a busy New York City don’t exist.

Her heart stops.

It hits her like a ton of bricks and her legs are moving before she can get the words out.

“He’s not coming to Bryant.” She all but yells to Clint on her comm. “He’s in disguise and headed northeast towards Lenox Hill.”

‘What? How do you know it’s him?” Natasha’s body turns wildly and spins a complete 180° until she sees him; he doesn’t resemble the suspect exactly; he’s dressed in all black, balding and carrying a bulky looking duffel bag walking about fifty yards away from her. His nose is different, bulbous instead of red and weasel-looking, and his skin is wrinkled. She barely makes out the new pair of glasses and the extra twenty pounds of a fat suit he’s sporting.

But his eyes. Natasha can’t forget those burning eyes from the photos she’s seen; full of fire and the urge to watch the world burn.

“I just know. Tell S.W.A.T. I’m in pursuit.”

“Wait Nat-” But she’s cutting off her earpiece before doubt can sink in.

Her mind is reeling. This was never going to be a mass shooting; from the start, it was always a trap to lure out New York’s most famous mutant, Spider-Man; the hero is notorious for apprehending violent offenders against the minorities like him and sticking up for each and every person who feels targeted. And she and the rest of S.W.A.T. fell for Ballard’s fucking front.

Now, there’s literally no agents patrolling the surrounding areas and it's only Spider-Man and the Black Widow are matching Ballard’s route to the Rhinelander Reef in the East River.

The vein in her neck is popping out and the muscle in the right-hand side of her jaw hurts as she tries to keep up the pace and ducks in and out of alleys and side streets.

Breathe. Calmness is key in times of dilemma. It's about blending in, to keep walking and not run. Don't yell, it’ll warn her mark.

She’s rounding him as he’s broken into the NYC Sanitation Pier 99. Joshua is fast but she’s faster, climbing up stairs and past the sounds of webs hitting surface. There are large, grey crates laying out on the edges of the pier as a perfect way to corner him and the breeze from the East River won’t keep him idle for long. She’s got an open and easy shot if she can catch him before he can make it to the water a-

As she rounds to the edge of the water, blocked off by a metal fencing that’s low to the ground, she sees Spider-Man clutching Ballard by his neck and dangling him off the railing, like a piece of meat in front of a lion. Ballard looks bloodied and bruised, nearly unconscious as the vigilante slams his body against the concrete before kicking him in the ribs. Spidey is adrenaline high and drunk on hate.

‘You think it’s fucking funny to shoot up little girls? Because they’re different?” The question is screamed through his teeth that are grinding; he’s almost choking the words out and Natasha can see his hands trembling with disgust. His figure is ominous in the light and his posture screams of every red flag that she knows of. The pure anger is so heavy in his voice that Nat is almost afraid; he could tear Ballard apart within a second and his knuckles are probably turning white beneath the suit. She hesitates slightly. The emotion is festering and so scorchingly alite that she knows the boiling point is soon.

‘I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch!” As he grabs Joshua’s crumpled form over the railing once again, Natasha knows that it’s now or never.

Spider-Man is about to kill this guy. 

Yes, he completely deserves it. She would want to do the same. This... kid isn't a super soldier but she knows he could easily crush the living shit out of this fucker with just the drop into the river.  
Spider-Man is a hero, annoyingly witty and has a self-sacrificing martyr complex, the bastard, but a hero nonetheless. To have Black Widow's approval is certainly saying something..

But Spider-Man is no killer.

She should probably call Ross or Rogers but she can see the rage seeping out of the suit and his latex covered hands shaking in fury. God, he’s been on her radar for too long. Ross is dead set on benching him by threatening him with his identity going public but the team seems less certain about it. The Avengers have become familiar with the hero’s bad puns and pop culture references. His comments about Tony being too old to be hip and Steve being slow compared to the mutant’s enhanced speed. Clint, Wanda and Barnes have a soft spot for him and they treat him with a lot of respect on the field during missions.

“Spider-Man.” Her voice is loud and clear as Spidey turns to face her. Her pistol is cocked and her finger is on the trigger. “Don't do this. This isn’t what you really want.”

He doesn’t move as he stares the Black Widow down. “You can’t stop me.”

There's something in his voice that she's heard before but she can't place it exactly. It’s not the accent or the obvious vehemence and she’s seen so many people throughout the yea-

She sees the kid yank something from underneath his mask with his free hand and off his collarbone as he stares at it like it will make this choice for him.

This mutant hater and asshole is making pitiful sounds of pain and not even fighting back anymore but he’s so close to death that Natasha is about to shoot the vigilante instead.

She can make out clutched in his hand the black necklace with a iridescent stone and an engraving of the letter ‘R’ in cursi-

It’s Peter’s necklace. Spider-Man is Peter.

Natasha feels like she might faint or dive into the water herself.

Fuck Stark and fuck Banner and fuck literally everyone now that she thinks about it.

The betrayal she feels almost stops her right then and there. She feels like screaming or crying; but she knows it’s irrational and controlling and she has a job to finish. She has to be professional.

The water is below freezing temperature and at least 60 feet deep and it’d be so easy to just let him die and wash away like the piece of shit he is in the black abyss where no one can find him.

But she knows that anger; it’s impulsive. There are procedures in place and policies to be followed and she can’t just sit here and watch the boy who’s the closest thing to a son as she has kill someone.

She can’t watch him add red to his ledger no matter how angry she is.

“Peter,” She tries sternly but her voice is wrecked from running and March`s winter blues. She can't do this, she can't be fighting with a fucking intern that she’s so close to, she can’t watch everyone she cares about get chewed up and spit out by the evil of villains and HYDRA and-

Peter wrenches off the mask and she can see tears already streaking down his cheeks. He’s holding onto the necklace like his life depends on it, trembling profusely and he’s inches away from making the wrong choice.

“Don’t,” She says softly. Breathing out heavily through his nose and clenching his teeth, Peter releases Joshua Ballard onto the ground

Twitching and shaking as she fires a bullet laced with tranexamic acid to stop him from bleeding to death, she watches Ballard collapse, fully passing out, and almost roll into the East River. As she heaves him away from the ledge, she notices Peter shaking in gut-wrenching sobs as she hears him say, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Before Natasha can turn to hug him or yell or do something, he shoves his mask back on and shoots a web onto a passing by boat and soars before landing on a ferry that will take him back to Queens.

As she stares off at the disappearing blue and red figure and hears the S.W.A.T. vehicles’ loudspeaker calls, she knows she’ll always have Peter’s back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate everything.  
> Next chapter will take me a while.  
> K bye.  
> \- Reshma


	4. 4.

4.

 

When Natasha learns that Peter is Spider-Man, she almost throws herself into the East River to drown like all the other hopeless fools of Manhattan. For an ex-spy, she really is an idiot.

 

Days have passed and they haven't spoken since the pier incident; it's kind of killing her, though she's too prideful to admit it.

 

She's been tracking him nonetheless; on his way from school, from Decathlon practices and as Spider-Man. She keeps her distance and keeps her identity hidden. She hangs around the outdoor restaurants of Austin Street in Forest Hills and drives in the night to make sure he gets home safely. She loiters in dimly lit alleys of South Jamaica and trails him while stopping small muggings and robberies. She fully intended to keep the promise that she wouldn't betray his trust until she found out that he had been lying to her all this time.

 

Natasha doesn't know if she's waiting for him to slip up and out himself to the whole team or for him to come back to her so she can really lay into him; whichever it is, she's almost scared to reach out and look beyond her ego.

 

Sometimes, she wonders if Peter will have the guts to put his wants in front of the world’s needs. He carries the world on his shoulders and his selflessness is a going to be the death of him.

 

She mentally scans through his banter and instead of her usual eye rolling at his comebacks, she realizes something. Sure, the kid is a nervous wreck without the suit but she doubts he'd be as calm without his quips and bad jokes to diffuse his mind.

 

She already knows how fast Stark's mind runs and she can't imagine how much Peter might crave to just turn it off. He's smart enough to thrive at Midtown but with his powers, she realizes that his mind would turn into a sort of hell.

 

Also, she'll begrudgingly admit that Spider-Man isn't as bad as she originally made out. Peter is a genuinely good person and it shows on his patrol, whether it be helping an old lady across the street or reuniting a lost dog with its owner.

 

Something stirs in her chest, and instead of anger towards Bruce and Tony, there's a sort of innate care that's expanding.

 

She doesn't know how to do this right; how to be this mother-figure she feels he needs right now. She knows Peter looks up to Avengers more than anything and that the Black Widow being more than an idol is shaping the hero in ways she could never be prepared for. She knows this but how does she proceed from this point? It’s not so simple as to just forgive him within the snap of her fingers. Where's the balance between parental-figure, friend and teammate? How does she avoid crossing the lines that haven’t even been laid out?

 

She's given it plenty thought over the past few days if she could even stand to see him in her messed up world; the idea of Peter, stupid self-sacrificing and stubborn Peter, in the line of fire, pissing off the Avengers' worst enemies and threats, getting hurt or, even worse, killed, is a lot to come to grips with.

 

If she ignored him from now and only engaged with Spider-Man, she knows she’d be missing so much of his life and his laughs. He keeps her going. But if she tries to bench Peter as Spider-Man to keep him safe, she might just end up pushing him further away despite her instinct to hold him and never let go.

 

She knows one thing; she can’t stay mad at him forever; she wants to actively be apart of his life, in _and_ out of the suit.

 

\--------------

 

Later, she’ll realize that it doesn't matter how her emotions spiral this into something terrifying; Peter's already been doing this before she put both his identities together and figured out they were one. He's been managing so far, albeit her help from the sidelines for both personas, and he's still a good kid underneath the bravado. He’s not going to stop anytime soon, either.

It's a Friday afternoon at the Compound. She goes to corner Tony about enlisting a fucking minor on a day she’s particularly irritated with the whole situation but finds Wanda, Clint and him in the communal kitchen baking cookies. She decides that she needs to rip the bandaid off already.

 

“So, Peter is Spider-Man,” She says calmly leaning against the counter. Clint does a whole body flinch and Tony glares at her. “Why the secrecy? He's already at the Compound often enough.”

 

“Nat.” Clint warns as he stands up as if to prevent a fight and Nat is more done with his shit than usual.

 

“You _knew_.” It's not accusatory just matter-of-fact. “How long?”

 

“Ever since the Disney marathon.” Wanda admits and Nat wants to smack herself in the face. She stares at Clint with murderous intent for a whole five seconds before his eye twitches and he relents.

 

“She told me a few days after.” Clint mumbles taking a step back. Nat is about five seconds from killing him as her eyes flare with anger and she smacks the side of his head. “He said not to tell the team! You know how Mr. Red-White-And-Blue would get if he knew that a kid was fighting with us.”

 

“Some spy you are.” Tony's gruff voice is mocking and Natasha decides that she needs to be better than petty.

 

“Says the man who enlisted a _child_.” She shoots back. Before she can be interrupted, she makes up her mind and hisses out, “Spider-Man is not going to be an Avenger. _Ever._ ”

 

She turns around and stalks off to the gym with an irritated huff as Clint says, “Mother hen, much?”

\----------

 

She's in the Compound's armory stabilizing an AR-15. She passes through the corridor to the sharpshooter range. Several black and red silhouetted targets litter throughout the vinyl flooring, the blue wash of light in the room is dim and the motion sensors beneath her feet are alert.

 

It's a standard set up and, truth be told, she doesn't need the target practice. Like she said, she's spent more than enough time beside Clint to never miss.

 

Yeah, since when has she been known for being truthful?

 

God, she’s frustrated and misses the little bastard. She’s worried about him since he hasn’t visited the Compound and it’s eating her alive.

 

She doesn't notice how her collarbone is straining out and her undereye is twitching as she fires a bullet. Her noise cancelling ear muffs pinch her head and the sound of air rushing past her makes her flinch.

 

She misses the target by at least a few inches and dents the outer ring of the circular target.

 

“Fuck,” She swears under her breath. That’s when she realizes that she isn’t alone in the room.

 

Barnes emerges from the back of the room near the observation window she always rushes past and appears in her peripheral as she fires off three shots consecutively with intense focus. They all miss the center and the bullets ricochet to the floor while she fumbles with the magazine.

 

“Natalia.” He says. “You look like shit.”

 

“Is that supposed to comfort me?” She’s annoyed and her voice is flat.

 

“No. It's supposed to give you a wake up call.” His eyebrow is raised and Natasha wants to punch him.

 

“Into what, Barnes? He’s a kid, for Christ's sake!” She seethes, reloading her ammunition.

 

“So were you, Clint, Steve and I. We were all fighting separate wars and none of us had a choice.” Bucky sounds so matter-of-fact and she should kill him right here and now and flee the country.

 

“Yes, but he does.” She practically screams, and to her horror, tears are already streaming down her face. ”He doesn’t have to be an Avenger. He doesn’t have to fight these wars and be as stupid as the rest of us.”

 

She disarms her gun in a flash and as she sinks to the ground. God, she hates this. She hates Peter and fucking Barnes and Stark, goddammit.

 

“You don’t mean that.” Fuck Barnes being an assassin and so damn observant. “You’re just afraid.”

 

Natasha whips her head to look up into Bucky’s eyes with anger. “I am _not_ afraid of him.” Peter is a _kid._ She’s not afraid of being replaced or his powers, she’s the fucking Black Widow for a reason.

 

‘I didn’t say that. I still think he would win in a fight, though.” He shakes his head. Maybe Clint could help with disposal or an alibi while she skins him alive. “You’re afraid of losing him.”

 

The room goes deathly still as Natasha _freezes._

 

“I know, ‘Tasha.” He’s not condescending but she feels like she’s being pitied or scolded.

 

“You don’t know shit, Barnes.” She spits at him.

 

“I know. It’s hard to lose everyone you love. I know that as much as you do.” There’s now a body sitting next to her as Bucky glares at her fiercely as Natasha stares at the targets impassively.

 

“How are we supposed to save the world if we can’t even save our own?” Her voice is tiny and lost. That’s the crux of the matter, really. She didn’t want to get attached and now she’s terrified of a mission gone seriously wrong or a bad guy too strong for her favorite teenage genius.

 

Bucky shrugs. “There’s no guarantee we’ll save everyone. But we’re here to _avenge_ them if it comes to that.”

 

She lets out a scoff that’s teary and her smile is sad as she nods at the Winter Soldier.

 

“We have to stand by him.” His voice is sure. “He’s young and he’s going to fuck up and he’s going to get hurt but we have to teach him to be better than us."

 

He’s right goddammit.

 

She lets out a groan of frustration and covers her eyes with her gloved hands while laying on her back. A few more tears begin to escape and Barnes’ hand is on top of hers as she mumbles, “He’s just so… small.”

 

Barnes lets out a laugh and replies, “So was Steve, always sick with asthma and scarlet fever. I always got in trouble with his Ma' for encouraging him. I tried to keep him away from fightin’ in alleys and the Army. You know it didn’t do shit with his stubbornness.” With a thoughtful look, Bucky adds, “But I guess it worked out in the end.”

 

“What the hell am I supposed to do?” She just doesn’t know where to go from here.

 

“Teach him everything you know. Train him to be better. Keep an eye on him.” Bucky says. "But, more than anything, `Tasha? Forgive him for not telling you. That’s kind of the purpose of a secret identity.”

 

She tilts her head to meet his eyes and lets out a laugh between her tears. “That's hilarious coming from the superhero whose face in every history book.”

 

He thumps her shoulder and smiles as he exclaims, “And here I thought we were having a moment, вдова.”

 

Vision suddenly appears and before Nat can breathe or wipe the tears from her face, Vision says, "Captain Rogers is requesting your backup, Ms. Romanoff.”

\-------------

She doesn’t own a fancy suit, fly or have super speed like some of her team but the QuinJet gets her there fast enough. It takes three hours to get from upstate to Brooklyn on a good day in traffic but she’s there is less than a half hour.

 

She’s in Dumbo and hovers above the Brooklyn Bridge near the Fulton Ferry District when she finds Rogers. She’s lands the jet in the park and can see pedestrians in their cars and nearby at almost midnight stare with incredulity. Even years after New York or Sokovia and the world will never stop gawking at her and the rest of the team for simply existing. Figures.

 

Rogers greets her in front of Jane’s Carousel. Steve’s dressed in a leather jacket, a baseball cap and jeans with his head hung down to avoid drawing attention but the giant Avengers’ jet kind of gives it away; subtly never been his strong suit.

 

He looks into her eyes and his mouth is twisted into a grimace of sorts. “He was here on the deck when I found him. He kept backing away from me and crawled up the cables before I could snag him off.”

 

Peering up at the structure in front of her, she has to crane her neck to barely make out the small red figure on top of archway closest to Brooklyn.

 

“I've got it handled.” She really, really doesn’t but bluffing is all she’s got. She flips her hair out of her eyes from the wind blowing in her face and eyes Steve’s tense stance. “I’ll see you back at the Compound.”

 

“You could have told me.” Steve says. ‘He’s a child, not a soldier.”

 

So, Steve knows. Which means that soon Sam will too and she’ll be at the bottom of the list of people to find out along with these idiots.

 

Natasha looks at him from underneath her eyelashes and grins but it’s not a nice smile. “You really think we could’ve stopped him? That’s rich coming from the man that’s been getting into fights _before_ the serum.”

 

Steve is about to interrupt her but she holds up her hand before he can protest, “Stark enlisted him, not me. But Steve? We don’t need another fight within the team. If it had been you, look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn’t have tried to fight for people.” Her voice feels strained but she can’t let this break them apart right now. Not again.

 

Steve’s nostrils are flared out as he gazes into hers with a fervent emotion for what feels like an hour. She stares back with a blank expression and waits. He suddenly turns his head to the side, relaxes his face into a small smile and lets out a ragged breath.

 

“I guess you have a point, Romanoff.” He replies shoving his hands inside his jacket pockets. “Go get Itsy Bitsy; that’s an order.”

 

“At ease, soldier.” Her voice is calmer before she turns around swiftly and boards the jet once again.

 

She lands the bird over top the arch and lands next to Peter with grace from a grappling hook, rushing water of the river beneath her and the Statue of Liberty’s outline vaguely surrounded by boats and ferries to her left. She doesn’t worry about hitting the support beams or cables but the height is a bit dizzying as she takes a step forward to steady herself.

 

The sky is dark, twinkling with shiny emerging stars behind the grey plumes of pollution, and the horns screeching and engines beneath her feet are light years away.

 

Peter is sitting near the American flag, facing Manhattan, knees up and his head buried on his thighs on the arch closest to the borough rather than the city. She can see the black webbing detail of his suit clearly on top of the blue and red spandex. He's shaking and trying to gasp for air without success. His fists are clenched so tightly that she fears he may break something. There's a strange slump to his body language, one where he's bordering between his fight-or-flight instinct, and it sends her worry into overdrive.

 

Natasha clicks her hook back into her belt and slowly approaches the kid.

 

“Spider-Man.” She says loudly over the sounds of traffic and she sees him wince in pain. Her concern suddenly flips into distress as she fires off questions. “What’s going on? Are you injured? Why are you here?”

 

“No, I don’t- I can’t-” His voice is muffled from his head being in his lap and he's trembling.

 

She crouches a foot away from him before kicking her legs off the edge and sitting next to him.  She reaches her hand up towards his shoulder before seeing him jerk in a seizure sort of way.

 

“I’m going to put my hand on you. I need you to verbally acknowledge this.” Her voice is stern and without room for argument.

 

“Natasha.” His voice sounds wrecked and afraid like a small child. “You can’t make it stop.” He’s gritting his teeth like it pains him to talk.

 

“Peter.” She says blanky before he lets out a shuddering breath and nods twice before the tremors take over again.

 

She reaches out with her hand slowly so he has time to back away if he wants to. He doesn't. As soon as her hand brushes his shoulder, he freezes and the shaking stops. She tries her fingers to his neck and underneath his mask. After a moment of clutching the fabric between her thumb and index finger, she pulls back the red and see him for the first time since the pier.

 

His hair is a disheveled mess as he meets her eyes slowly. His cheeks are flushed red and tearstained while his mouth is wobbling. His dark brown eyebrows are hunched over his lids and his eyelashes are blinking too quickly and twitching as he lets small unintentional spasms course across his body.

 

“Focus on me.” She whispers as his eyes roll back and he breathes in through his nose.

 

She runs her fingers through his hair slowly, in repetitive downward motions, while her other hand rubs his back in circular motions. She counts to five in a quiet voice as he inhales, holds his breath and then exhales. He struggles with the exercise but gradually gets better as Natasha doesn’t stop. Her hand squeezes gently at his neck and shoulders while the other fumbles at her belt for something. She produces a pair of bizzare looking earplugs and softly hushes him before placing one in each ear.

 

The ear plugs were designed for Banner by Stark after missions and are meant to drown out most sound. They're more effective than anything on the market and today is a day that Natasha Romanoff is glad to be surrounded by mad geniuses.

 

Within a second of fastening the ear plugs, Peter’s body slumps completely against her side and he clutches his eyes shut. She’s bracing him with both her arms now and watching his chest rise with stronger breaths. He relaxes from tension as she stops counting and continues her feather-light touches against his scalp.

 

They could be there for a few minutes or an hour, she doesn’t care or pay attention. They sit side-by-side until Peter lets out his exhale and reaches for his ears with his fingers. He doesn’t shake once.

 

He stares into her eyes with gravitational force of a black hole, with solemn eyes full of tears and a maturity that's too advanced for being sixteen. She also sees a child-like vulnerability; one that's scared and desperately craving comfort but is too traumatized to ask for it.

 

“Are you alright now?” She leans her head on his shoulder as Peter comes back to reality and stares at the New York skyline with a serene expression.

 

“Yeah I think so.” He cracks his knuckles in neck and stares widely

 

“What was that?” She feels out of her element and wants to yell at him for not calling for help. She wants to grab him and hold him so tight that he'll always be protected.

 

“Sensory overload. Everything goes haywire.”

 

 _Sensory overload,_ she later learns, is personal type of hell made for spider-bitten mutants. His enhanced focus and senses sometimes do their job too well and force Peter into a catatonic-like state.

 

“Call me next time.” Natasha says simply. “You don’t need to do this alone, Spider-Man.”

 

“I don’t-" He breaks off his sentence before shaking his head.

 

She pushes her head off and stares at him like she stared at Clint earlier that day.

 

“Tell me.” Her tone is sharp and her gaze are hard.

 

“I didn’t think you wanted to see me.” His voice cracks on the last word and her heart breaks then and there.

 

“Oh, _Peter.”_ She sighs.

 

“I’m a superhero, you know? I shouldn’t need other people to help me with my powers and act like a kid.” Well, at least his nervous rambling is back to normal.

 

“Spider-Man,” She cuts him off. “is a human underneath the mask. Are you saying that none of the Avengers are allowed to have bad days or panic attacks?” Her voice is clipped and expecting, ready to go there if she needs to.

 

“Nonono-” He shakes his head wildly and his eyes are so honest.

 

“Then none of that shit, Peter.” She lets out the breath she’s been holding and steels herself. “We all have baggage. It’s okay to ask for help.” She’s telling the truth. The last thing she wants is for him to bottle things up like her and feel alone.

 

“Are you mad? About me being Spider-Man?” There’s a tiny catch in his blunt tone and she knows he’s terrified of the answer.

 

“I’m a little upset that you didn’t tell me” She sees his shoulder hunch before she continues.

 

”We need to work on trust as a team but I’m not angry. You have spider standards to live up to now, Peter, and I expect you to be stronger than the mad scientists, magicians and brainless birds on our team.” Her tone turns to light and teasing at the end but her eyes are shining intensely proud.

 

 _“Oh.”_ There’s a blossoming light slowly replacing the darkness of Peter’s face, as if he’s saying, 'Really?’

 

“You’re my teammate, my friend, my ki- combat partner.“ She _did not_ almost say kid. Nope, not at all.

 

Peter’s smile widens as he realizes what she nearly said and he covers his mouth with his hand giggling as Natasha rolls her eyes and ruffles his hair. There aren't media helicopters out this late and she knows his identity will be fine but it’s not safe this close to the ledge and she just wants him somewhere warm and dry.

 

Wow. She really is like an overprotective parent.

 

“What do you say we get out of here? You’re all set to stay at the Compound tonight.” Peter’s mood has brightened and, though tired, he’s bouncing up and down to be spending the night.

 

“Thanks, Natasha.” He says and there's something genuine in between his eyelashes and crinkled smile that she doesn’t see much. She writes a mental note to herself to seek out that look on Peter more often.

 

Ugh. Emotions. Not necessary right now.

 

“Oh, and if I ever find out you hide this again, I can guarantee May won’t be as forgiving as I am.” Her mouth scrunches as Peter gulps. Spider-Man launches a web at the opening of the QuinJet and lifts the Black Widow off the Brooklyn Bridge.

 

Just like that, all is forgiven, and later in the early hours of a Saturday, the two spider-clad superheroes are curled up on the couch in the communal area, falling asleep to a Star Wars movie.

 

(If Tony Stark passes by and snaps a photo of the two of them while sleeping, well, he’s digging his own grave, if Natasha’s being honest.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me a minute to finish this chapter. Just kind of having writer's block.  
> I'll be posting a Clint/Natasha thing later this week, please check it out. It's going to be hella angsty.  
> Natasha is such a mom, I love her.  
> Laters,  
> \- Reshma


	5. 5.

5.

 

When it comes to assessing information, every good spy knows that social media is the best access into a mark's head they can get in this day and age. A few posts can show location habits, travel patterns and even sociopathic tendencies. Natasha is already well versed in the self-deprecating humor and negative doxing that is the shitpost of the internet.

 

Peter's Twitter is full of random thoughts and bad math puns. Tweets like ‘What kind of baby does a triangle have? A cute one’ with a few likes and retweets. There's a few pro-mutant posts he's retweeted and local Queens news articles about arrests the night before (ones full of baggage she knows that Spider-Man is still recovering from) sprinkled in as well. He’s a kid who's way too mature for his age and the ugly shit he's seen, in her opinion, justifies using social media as a way to vent and feel safe.

 

His Instagram is pretty similar, sporting photos of his Decathlon practices or competitions, his friends she's learned the faces of, Ned and Michelle, and random chemical experiments from school. She sees the other photos, too, ones of May Parker holding him as an infant or tribute posts to his late parents. The one of his mother is a washed out, a grainy Polaroid of a woman dressed in blue with the same eyes and nose as Peter, and the other of his father, a serious graduation portrait with a man with a square jaw and over sized circular glasses.

 

She knew about his parents but being this up close and personal to such a private part of his grief reminds her how much of a kid he still is. That yes, his jokes are awful and his nervous babbling at low-grade criminals is mind-numbing at times, but it cements how desperate a part of Peter still wants to be normal; to be a kid with good hearted friends and afterschool study sessions with high cholesterol snacks and late-night last minute projects that are due in an hour accompanied by a gallon of coffee. He's a kid who's been tested by loss and pain over and over and she _knows_ in her gut that sometimes he's dying to just stop being Spider-Man when he sees a kid that reminds him of himself that gets to hang out with friends in the early evenings on patrol. She knows because she feels the same way sometimes.

 

It scares Natasha just how much Peter puts himself out there in the world, heart on his sleeve and head on his shoulders, Spider-Man or not.

 

Her instinct to trust Peter was alright. He needs her unorthodox family as much as she does. God, she wants to spoil him. She may not be even a fraction as rich as Stark but she hopelessly wants to be enough to fill the void of lost parents; Mary, Richard and Ben.

 

She asks F.R.I.D.A.Y. to display the accounts of some of his peers when something on the screen jumps out at her.

 

It's a quiet evening at the Compound. She's been home for a few hours after a standard HYDRA base take down and is trying to unwind from her default super-spy state-of-mind.

 

It's troubling, to say the least.

 

An account on Twitter that Peter doesn't follow belongs boy from his Decathlon team, ‘Flash’ it says. Noticing that neither account is following each other is already a bit unsettling considering how many tweets seem to be targeted towards her spider-dweeb. There are sporadic tweets replying to Peter's posts about late nights and being tired, all relatively normal topics, mentioning how his Stark Internship must be so difficult and exhausting. Sarcasm isn't really this brat’s strong suit. She sees Flash’s profile, pictures of an entitled, rich kid posed in front of luxury sports cars with a self-inflated ego. Tweets about how he shouldn’t waste his time at high school considering his IQ, retweets of Ivy League colleges, group photos with gang signs up despite wearing fucking khakis, and new tech including the flashiest StarkPhones and designer clothes. He seems to idolize the Avengers the further she goes back on his account but has warped opinions against mutants attending the same schools as him. She can tell he’s not but strikes her as the type of kid that could get twisted up into radical extremist groups because of how impressionable his age is. He claims an imbalance for telekinetic kids during exams and enhanced students during phys-ed classes; maybe it’s stemming from the fact that he’s shit at sports anyways but she can’t tell.

 

There are other messages about how annoying Peter is and how he's a liar. Natasha's blood boils. There are ones directed at Ned, as well, but there’s not the same kind of viciousness as the insults towards the kid. She really should leave it alone, it’s obviously just some kid being an asshole and Peter is obviously ignoring him, but her mission mode hasn’t exactly worn off. She's trying not to assess and plan a tactical mode of retaliation.

 

She’s about to leave it alone, genuinely, but just as she’s a millisecond away from flicking her hand to close the holograms, her eyes dart at Peter’s page refreshing and a new tweet appearing. His most recent is a short and simple post that says, ‘ _Can’t wait for the competition tmr @NedLeeds @realMJones_ ’ but the reply is new.

 

Flash’s account pops up under Peter’s words and says, “ _C_ _an’t wait for you to show up with no family!”_ followed by a laughing-crying emoji.

 

Natasha grinds her teeth in a venomous trance underlying with a brewing violence stirring in her chest. She imagines how tough this asshole is behind his phone screen really is; a rich daddy’s boy with no real morals and a bad temper. He’s on the same team as Peter and is absolutely tyrant, intimidating and harassing his peers’ weak points. She wonders how macho he’d be in front of Spider-Man.

 

Within mere seconds, she’s pulled up the Decathlon team’s Twitter account, _@MidtownDecath,_ and May Parker’s work schedule on the screen in front of her. Their newest tweets says, “ _JUST IN! A talent scout for MIT, Harvard and Princeton will be at tomorrow’s event. Bring your family for a chance at early entry admissions, scholarships and bursaries!!!”_  Attached to the post is the ‘IT’S HAPPENING’ gif from The Office.

 

May is working a 12-hour shift through the afternoon competition held at Peter’s school. She tries her best to be there for Peter, Nat knows, but being a single parent in suburban Queens with limited government assistance for a nurse isn’t exactly easy. She’s a good parent but the strain on Peter shows it’s mark when spontaneous moments aren’t within her finger’s reach like they used to be with Ben.

 

The brazen reality is that a student who appears to a major academic event without any family alludes to an unstable support system or financial instability, a major turn off for talent agents taking a chance on young high schoolers. Peter won’t stand a chances with the wolves cornering him alone and this asshole of a bully will surely steal any hope Peter will feel for his future tomorrow.

 

Natasha knows Peter’s a kid-genius and could dominate in any scientific field with ease but actively chooses not to. By a long shot, he’s the smartest kid at Midtown and his explosive tendencies in Tony’s lab are certainly proof of that. He’s told her that he’s a part of their team and it’s everyone’s job to help their teammates thrive. She thinks that maybe he wasn’t just talking about his after school extracurriculars.

 

The kid is too selfless for his own good. When it comes down to it, she knows Peter better than she knows herself. She’s aware that he’ll slink off from the crowds of parents bubbling with pride at their kid’s accomplishments in front of the recruiters. He’ll stare at the perfect picture of a family that he never had and lower his head into his ratty sweater as his peers advance their prospects at an Ivy League education.

 

Not to mention that this bully boy will probably sneer and belittle Peter, all the while.

 

Natasha decides that, well, that’s just not acceptable for her spider baby.

\-------

 

Midtown School of Science and Technology is stiflingly too Manhattan for her taste. Teenagers are buzzing around with inflated self-importance complexes and teachers look drained and irritable. It’s quarter to 4 P.M. on a Monday and, typically, Natasha would be doing something low-scale. Tracking bar-crawlers and party goers to establish drug routes and black market dealings in Los Angeles, be monitoring police scanners in for patterns for elusive terrorists in Tokyo, or even hacking from a shitty motel room in Buenos Aires into banking records of suspicious donations from major CEOs to local politicians. She’s a spy, an assassin and a mole; she does her job right or not at all for a reason.

 

None of her usual late-night escapades are more critical to her than today’s..

 

It’s not exactly a mission but it’s embedded in her subconscious that she’ll do whatever it takes to protect him from the same evils that dragged her kicking and screaming into S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers.

 

Sometimes, she wonders what it would have been like to be normal; it happens in the early hours after a debriefing when she lays in bed and stares at the ceiling, trying to quiet her mind. If she hadn't been sent to the KGB or Red Room, would she have had a life similar to Peter’s? A loving parent, a mentor for her school days or even a basic support system? Would she have turned out so cold to the world that’s frozen her alive?

 

It makes her shudder with terror at the idea that Peter would ever turn out like the Black Widow. She was an item, weaponized and inhuman, unfeeling and a menace.

 

The stench of men’s AX body spray and low-grade cafeteria food is unpleasant. There are mothers in pointy high heels and pencil skirts tapping on their phones impatiently, fathers in oversized t-shirts with big welcoming smiles and a few official looking people in suits with lanyards displaying **MIT faculty** or **Judge** trickling into the auditorium. The stage is set up for two teams with long tables and buzzers. Midtown is dressed in fluorescent yellow blazers and their competition, an Upper West Side private school’s team, wears dark green turtlenecks with red embroidered patches. Peter’s coach, a man with circular glasses and bushy brown hair, is fumbling with his shirt nervously.

 

The space is loud and she’s seated between a middle-aged man that’s cheering for Midtown’s opponents too aggressively and a woman in a pink sundress staring at her curiously. Natasha knows she’s not wearing much of a disguise, just a hoodie covering her blonde hair, minimal makeup and sweatpants. As she catches the lady’s eyes, pink sundress flushes with embarrassment and settles back into her seat.

 

Although she detests her current predicament, she’s… glad that Peter Parker has come into her life, despite the circumstances, his less than perfect arrival to the team and the low times they face, she’s at peace.

 

When Peter, Michelle and Ned walk out, her mouth upturns in a sly simper and tilts her chin up. Ned is laughing about something when a kid with tan skin and dark hair shoves past him and saunters towards his chair on the stage. She’s seen the brat’s I.D. picture earlier that day and narrows her eyes slightly at him. Peter could easily take him on without much effort from his enhancements. She knows that even if the situation escalated, he still wouldn’t beat the fucker’s ass; like she’s said before, Spider-Man isn’t a killer.

 

However, Black Widow is. She can’t help but think of what the almighty Winter Soldier or Iron Man would say if they knew their favorite spider’s fight-or-flight tendencies.

 

The competition begins and Natasha can see the recruiters with notepads and tablets jotting notes down as teenager’s on stage frantically claw at the buzzer for their team.

 

She can see the black necklace illuminated by the spotlight on Peter’s neck above his sweater. If her heart skips a beat when the tip of the alexandrite peaks out, no one has proof and anyone that does may not be living for much longer.

 

The score is 7-9 and Midtown is losing within the first half. Flash starts out confident but slouches back into his chair as time progresses and his answers deteriorate. That’s when Peter steps up to save the day, just not as Spider-Man this time. The hollering from both teams’ parents is incorrigible and she’s glad she’s not the rabid soccer mom Stark is.

 

She can't help but beam internally every time Peter buzzes before the other team with perfect reaction time, lightning speed and perfectly articulated fact-checked answers. He's brilliant and her genuine smile that she usually saves only for Clint is proudly apparent in the darkened audience.  
  
In the seconds before a player versus player session of rapid fire questions, Peter leaves his chair to be Midtown's competitor and his eyes flutter to find Natasha sat near the middle row in the audience. It’s the exact moment that he notices her that a smile that crinkles his eyes and shows off his pronounced dimples blooms on his face; there's an undeniably adorable set of dimples and a blush sprouting as Natasha crosses her hands at the wrist, wiggles her fingers around, and moves her hands forward. Peter shoves a hand in front of his mouth to stop giggling as he tunes back into his team.  
  
It's the gesture in American Sign Language for spider and she's being a little cheesy. Can anyone blame her? It's the first time outside of lab experiments gone wrong that she gets to see Peter in his element. He's confident but not cocky and she actively can see the gears turning in his head as he diligently processes words and scours his brain for an answer.

The teams are tied in a deadlock, 20-20, during the second half, sweatbead trickling down participants’ eyebrows and eyes twitching as they anxiously wait for the final round. She feels a balloon inflating in her chest with worry and uncertainty. It’s the final question and Natasha can see something brewing behind Flash’s, Eugene really, in a menacing glance at Peter.

 

As he catches her eyes again, he notices Nat staring at Flash and looks unsure as to how to proceed. She poses a challenge in her posture swiftly at Peter, positions her eyebrow in a question and stares at her kid with an intensity in her eyes. He blinks three times before taking in a deep breath and jutting his chin out in a stubbornness.

 

Yeah, that’s her boy.

 

The judge fiddles with her final card and leans towards the microphone and asks, “Final question is worth five points: The line y = 2x - 9 is tangent to the parabola y = x^2 + ax + b at the point (4,-1). What are the values of a and b?”

 

Silence follows for a whole three seconds before the opposing team buzzes and a girl with lisp answers, “ _a_ equals negative six and _b_ equals negative four.”

 

“Incorrect,” The judge cuts out and the smile is wiped away from the girl’s face as her team clenches their fists and shake their heads. “Midtown, this is your chance to win; any takers?”

 

Without hesitancy, Peter buzzes and answers, “ _a_ equals negative six and _b_ equals seven.”

 

“Correct,” The judge announces and the crowd erupts in a mix of cheering and displeasure from the families and stage but all Natasha can see is Peter beaming with sincerity in his eyes as his team runs around each other in celebration. The balloon deflates and all is well.

 

After the competition, Natasha texts Peter and goes closer towards the stage to greet him and give him a hug. She waits a full five minutes before deciding to investigate. She may not have his Spider-sense but she’s got a reliable gut impulse that rarely fails her.  
  
"I told you that I needed to answer more questions, Penis! It’s not like you have any family to be proud of you.” The voice is a shill teenage boy’s, and as she rounds a corner backstage, she finds Peter being shoved against a wall. Flash is intimidating Peter from talking to the recruiter as he begins to advance towards his parents and all Natasha can think is _oh hell no._

 

“Excuse me,” And her tone is deadly. “Just, what exactly did you call him?”

 

“I don’t know who you but I have more importa- ” As Eugene spins around to face the voice, he finds her extremely close to his body with a sinister glower in her pupils and tense inhales.

 

“Who are you, exactly?” Flash mocks and crosses his arms as he leans back from her but doesn’t move. She can see a tremble course through his body, his eyes blinking erratically in discomfort and his shoulders scrunched up.

 

A second after Natasha removes the hood from her head, Flash widens his eyes with realization as they land on her navy-illuminated features and stutters out, “Aren’t you the _Black Widow_?”

 

“Yes” She smiles but it’s not a nice smile. “And I don’t _appreciate,_ ” She says slowly with the gaze of a lion hunting its prey as she steps closer towards Eugene, the latter stumbling back a step and cornered in between the wall. “people bothering my family.”

 

“I wasn’t- We are friends, I mean-” Flash twists his neck behind her as he shakes with fear. ”What the fuck, Parker? How many dicks did you suck for h-”

 

“Shut up.” She hisses and he freezes. The last word has her dangerously close to ripping the kid’s throat out or decapitating him before she’s interrupted.

 

"Please don't kill him, Nat." Peter cuts in.

 

She pauses still staring at Eugene, then wanders back to Peter’s side, whose eyes are glaring daggers at her and composes herself, face impassive as she says, “That’s more of Hawkeye’s thing. Maybe I should let him and the Winter Soldier know that we have a problem.”

 

She glances to bully-boy still in the corner and arches her eyebrow, “What do you say? I don’t tell any of the Avengers about this incident and you leave my kid _the fuck_ alone. Understood, трус?”

 

“Ye- yes, ma’am.” He’s starting inching further away from her and she decides to put the poor kid out of his misery.

  
  
She bares her teeth in a sort of leer that promises a threat as she says, “I’ll be watching you, Eugene. You wouldn’t want to test me.”

Flash squeaks and his eyes are filled with an undercurrent of anger overshadowed by fear. As he skitters off out the door, Natasha holds her fingers up to her face to inspect her nails nonchalantly as she turns towards Peter.

"You didn't have to do that." His voice is stern but she can hear the disbelief and glee in it too.

  
"I know." She rolls her eyes back and stretches her legs from sitting for a while.

"No, really, I can handle some stupid teenager." She can hear bits of hysteria biting at his stubborn tone. He's rambling because he thinks he still has something to prove and it kind of offends Natasha so much that she wants to duct tape his mouth shut. "I don't need you to baby me, I've been dealing with Flash's shit since middle school and I've been fine-"

She raises her eyebrows with a streak of disbelief and a blast of being unimpressed.

"Without telling someone about it?" That's not dealing with it, Peter. We've been over this; you asking for help doesn’t make you less of an Avenger. That applies to in and out of the suit. Would any of the Avengers agree with you here?"

 

“I-” Natasha fixes him with a that _look_. “Okay, yeah, maybe you're right.”

 

“I’m always right.” She says, slinging an arm over Peter’s shoulder as he rolls his eyes at her. She guides him towards a talent agent on the stage and hypes him up professionally.

 

“Nat?” Peter whispers later as the talent coach scribbles down Peter’s information for a scholarship admittance. “Thanks.”

 

"That's what family is for, паук."

After hugging Peter goodbye and giving him extra money to out with his team and celebrate with pizza in SoHo, she presses her nose to his and squeezes her eyes shut before disappearing. As she walks away to the exit of Midtown, she hears Ned exclaim wildly, “Dude, Black Widow just stood up to _Flash_. What even is you life?”

 

“I have no idea,” Responds Peter and Natasha lets out a shit-eating grin.

 

For the first time in awhile, all she feels is warmth of her present instead of the chill of the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a road trip next week so I may not be able to get the last chapter up quickly. Trying my best.  
> Stay tuned for my Natasha/Clint piece that I totally have finished and have not stared at for hours in the hopes that it will write itself.  
> If you've bookmarked or commented, thank you so much. It means more than you know.  
> Stay lovely, lovelies.  
> \- Reshma


	6. +1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning; mildly graphic descriptions of serious injury.

+1

So, Natasha doesn't really do birthdays.

 

It's not because of the pessimistic trivialness of getting older or the over-the-top extravagant customaries of colorful cakes and expensive banquet halls; it's because of the pain of nothing to celebrate.

 

In the KGB, they had learned about happiness and celebrations; she knows about the customs in different cultures, rights of passages and screeching serenades by loved ones. She's mastered the subtle art of slipping into these sort of annual commemorations and fishing out whatever she needs from joyously tearful family members and tipsy companions with a habit for overindulgence.

 

But she's never had a chance to toast to being another year older and surviving the atrocities of her… line of work. Aside from the lie of turning twenty-one she would tell her marks to flirt her way into a drink or kill them, there was never any cake or presents. She had held a party at a ballroom as a fake heiress, despite being only sixteen, in London on orders to lure a few journalists to their demise; she pretended to celebrate her twentieth in an underground club in Venice with her temporary boyfriend, an aristocrat of the Italian human trafficking ring, for S.H.I.E.L.D. before shutting down the whole operation; she crashed her own shindig both times, with secret agents in tow and guns blaring.

 

Clint had stared at her pitifully and let it drop when she first admitted it to him in her first year at S.H.I.E.L.D. He had tried to give her some assemblance of a celebration with a cheap bottle of Russian vodka and an anonymous card from Fury on the day that’s legally marked on her private records but she had been adamant for drawing as little attention as possible to herself as possible. No parties or flowers, just missions, debriefings, rinse and repeat.

 

The date that’s been deemed as hers could be a few days too late or months off for all she knows. In reality, it’s just something she was given, like clothes and gun and missions; it’s not really hers, just something she had to learn to accept and move on with. Misplaced kindness and whatnot.

 

She tends not to give it too much thought anymore. She’s older and doesn’t feel the need to be happy about it. She could have tried to hunt down any and all information about her life before the Red Room (and believe her, she's tried), but it wouldn't of mattered; that girl, Natalia Alianovna Romanova, is long gone. There are no stories by Mama or Papa to lull her to sleep and there are no good night hugs in her родители bed to cling to when the nightmares wake her in the dead of night.

 

The idea of celebrating her life isn’t… appropriate; the murders and red in ledger is nauseating to reminisce over and to look past every bad deed she’s done just to have a day once a year to forget doesn’t feel right. She’s a monster on the days that all her assassinations flash back to her and people want her to put that aside? The idea to glorify the machine she was made to be and drink to the ‘hero’ she has to be against the evils she once was feels worse than low.

 

Peter does not take to this lightly.

 

Sure, she has a date of birth on paper but it's _different_ , he insists. He tries to convince her with his puppy dog eyes that she should have a party with balloons and a piñata.

 

“When is it?” He asks hyperly alert at the Compound, as they watch Happy Death Day. Peter says he loves horror movies as his attention is entranced by the gore and blood, flinching at every jumpscare, but Natasha generally just thinks it’s all a bit lackluster as she rolls her eyes.

 

“I’m not much of a spy if I lay out all the cards, am I, паук?”

 

“I could always tell Mr.Stark to put something together?“ Peter banters right back with an upturn in his smile and a shine in his chocolate eyes. Internally, she’s horrified at the thought of Tony hosting a party for her. She still vividly remembers his disaster in Malibu when he was dying of palladium poisoning. The last thing she wants is him and the rest of the Avengers to force her into hiding from first-hand embarrassment. God, she’d never be able to show her face in public again.

 

“You’re a menace, you know that?” She huffs out, a smile toying on her lips. ”April 20th. I think they just gave me something in spring because of how cold Moscow was.”

 

“We should do something!” He chirps excitedly. “It doesn’t have to be big but an assassin themed party would be so cool!”

 

“No luck, Spidey.“ Clint as he jumps onto a sofa chair across from the futon the other two superheroes are resting on. “Nat doesn’t do parties. You wouldn’t be able to hide a gift for her anyways. What a buzzkill.”

 

Natasha manages to fling one of her spare knives near the archer’s head as he ducks and the blades sinks straight into the plush cushion.

 

“Peter,” She says gently, never taking her eyes off of Clint sputtering at his newly ruined favorite couch, “It’s not really my thing.”

 

Peter deflates slightly but not before grabbing a sketchbook from his nearby backpack and stating, “I’m still asking Tony to patent balloons that double as a vanishing smoke."

 

She feels bad for crushing his spirit; he’s so full of ideas and hope while being insanely intelligent that she forgets how young he still is at heart.

 

"Pin the sniper on the target would be a great game!" Peter argues as she shakes her head, fondly exasperated.

 

“That’s just a regular Tuesday.” Bucky mentions from behind them somewhere they can’t see as Clint launches a dart onto the bullseye of a dartboard without looking up once from his phone, directly hitting the forehead of a grainy photo of Flash. Peter continues to sketch elaborate cake designs with her red and black symbol, lists some stores that have leftover Halloween decorations for cobwebs and fake spiders, and even starts calculating some schematics for a version of Beer Pong with mini-explosives.

 

“No drinking!” Tony chastises as he walks into the communal area and practically shoves himself into the spot next to Peter. The night ends with Stark talking about doing something lavish for Peter’s seventeenth, possibly a yacht or MIT bash, and Peter’s face turning beet red at the mention of Clint gifting him some a gift for ‘becoming a man’ with a girl from school.

 

All in all, she forgets about the conversation and continues her life as an Avenger. Natasha hates the attention; really, it's not her scene to have everyone's eyes on her, if she's being honest. The idea of having a Instagram-worthy expressive reaction every time she opens a gift that she probably doesn't even need or want sounds draining; and being the center guest for people to flock to with bubbly champagne and five star hor d'oeuvres sounds too 'entitled rich brat' for her taste.

 

So, no thanks, but she'd literally rather get mauled by a bear than be festive or take a day off for herself. There are more pressing life-or-death situations to intervene and civilians to save in the time it would take to 'celebrate' a random day of the year for her existence. She both envies and pities the celebration of life.

 

Her? She's an actress because she's been doing it her whole life; not only on-stage but off and at practically every moment. She's gotten good at it, because acting is the only option she has; it's the only way to be 'herself'. At a certain point, she doesn't know if was by choice or limit that she banned the tradition after she started at S.H.I.E.L.D., whether by bravery or cowardice…

 

But there are days she can't stand faking it anymore. The urge to reclaim that tiny slice of freedom the world stole from her and triumph her life for a day.

 

And then, she realizes that it's too late; the woman that everyone knows of is all an act or illusion, and the real her has become a stranger.

 

She thinks in the end, she just envies the parties and glamour of it all.

 

When the twentieth arrives, she’s just gotten back from a mission around 3 A.M. She was alone and tasked with getting a flash drive with a replica Super Soldier Serum in a high security vault. London is still rainy and dreary when she leaves. It’s a Wednesday night and dawn hasn’t even broken as she steps out from the QuinJet and heads to her private quarters in upstate New York.

 

The Compound is eerily silent and her footsteps are soft; she’s mentally exhausted but in the rewarding way. Though she’s barely slept on the ride home, she’s wide awake and itching for a shower and a cup of coffee. There’s a navy light from the floor’s lighting leading her way and she can see the pinch of white illumination from the crescent moon through the windows down the corridor. As she rounds the corner towards her bathroom, she stops dead in her tracks at the sight in front of her.

 

Peter is sat on her living room chair donning the Spider-Man suit with the mask tossed aside. In front of him on her charcoal coffee table is lamp illuminating a small red and black cupcake with a single candle lit and a box packaged with brown paper bags. “Happy birthday!” He exclaims and she can see a slight bruise blooming at his jaw as he rubs an ice pack on it.

 

“Let me guess?” She says, dropping her duffel bag on the floor and sliding next to him on the armrest. “Didn’t want to bother anyone?” Her tone is light but she’s still wary as her fingers ghost near his mouth.

 

“It’s just a scratch.” He hurries the gift into her hands. The scraping of paper bag is followed by Peter's animated excitement.

 

"I may have asked for some extra allowance but I wanted it to be meaningful! It's a bit cheesy but Ms. Potts said you'd probably like it." In front of her is a sleek, bright purplish gemstone on a black necklace; it's similar to Peter's but a darker blue tone surrounds the edges and hers is in the shape of a black widow symbol instead of an oval cut. The sharpness of the hourglass is dazzling as her eyes flutter to Peter's around his neck on top of his suit. Engraved in the dead center is a small 'P' and the necklace is subtle enough that it can be tucked under the neckline of her Kevlar jumpsuit.

 

“May always made an effort, even after Ben,” His voice breaks a little before he continues. "Even when we didn’t have a lot of money, she never wanted to make me think I was less than her family just because we weren’t related. I know it’s not muc- Oh!"

 

Before she can let his rambling turn doubtful, she promptly grabs Peter into her arms tightly and embraces him like her life depends on it. Truth be told, it kind of does. It’s all she can do to stop from crying as she purses her lips together and pulls back to press her nose to his forehead in a quiet gesture as she pulls back and swipes at her eyes in the darkly lit room. As she closes her eyes, blows out the candle and places the necklace back into the box, she ponders. It's crazy how she’s been given a family despite her past and their dysfunctionality. It's even crazier that she's managed to find a kid that filled the hole inside her soul she didn't know was there.

 

"Don’t you want to know what I wished for?” She says, breaking a piece of the cupcake and tasting the over sweetened red velvet.

 

“You can’t tell me!” His eyes widen. ‘That’ll ruin the magic, ‘Tasha!”

 

“It’s okay. I didn't wish for anything. I've got all I need right here.” Peter’s smile is blinding and a little tearful and she’s never loved someone like they've been a son. She never wants to lose him.

 

And promptly, the Avengers alarm blares, flashing crimson and screeching a loud, low-pitched tone drowning out the rest of the facility. "Please, forgive me for this." Natasha pleads looking into Peter's trusting eyes before tasing him as he passes out on her couch.

 

\-------

 

It’s a morning gone more than just sour; it’s all wrong, so very, very wrong.

 

There are green mutated lizard monsters running rampant near Flushing So, maybe knocking Peter out wasn't exactly by-the-book Avengers' protocol but she felt it was necessary sometime between the exhaustion of a mission gone too well and the severity of Peter's injuries he tried to hide. But she wasn't going to be the one to let him walk straight into the crossfire of an Avengers' level threat. Some secret HYDRA experiment gone wrong has evolved into the creatures attempting to kill pedestrians throughout Queens and the team's outnumbered.

 

Vision, Captain America, Falcon and the Winter Soldier are all engaging hostiles but the numbers don't seem to be going down. Wanda is trying everything she can to counter their mutations and flying abilities. Herself and Iron Man are keeping the perimeter secure, sending civilians out.

 

Hawkeye is calling out orders from above and Bruce is on standby at the Compound; they can't afford to have the Hulk jeopardize this battle. There's ash and dust in the air and she can barely breathe. They've been fighting since three in the morning and it's almost six. She's overly tired from last night's mission and not thinking straight. An hour passes and it finally seems like their winning. Dead mutilated corpses litter the streets of Lindenwood as she reload her pistol and shoots one of the bigger ones to the ground. Fucking finally. The scraping howls that sound like banshee cries are beginning to lessen and she can feel her leg aching after the adrenaline has worn off. She's no enhanced but she holding her ground isn't usually this hard.

 

Suddenly, her comms go dark and she can't see properly. The gravel is getting in her eyes and all she hears is static.

 

"Does anyone copy?!" Her area is empty and none of her team is in sight. "Repeat last order, Willet's Point is secure." There's something wrong and it's not just the half-destroyed city and disgusting beasts in its wake.

 

"Widow, I need back up now!" Rogers barks abruptly. She distantly notes that the static is heavy and his voice sounds muffled and a bit robotic but she's quick on her feet to his location. She gets to the hospital on Main Street and she can see Iron Man and Vision again.

 

"Cap, where are you?" She orders. She can barley make his voice out from the deafening buzz of white noise.

 

"15th floor, now." There's a million red flags waving right in front of her rapidly as she takes the elevator up and slams another lizard to the ground with her Widow's Bite. Her anxiety is edging on, her heartbeats in her ears and it doesn't make sense why Steve is calling her if the others are right here.

 

By the time the elevator doors ding open, she knows she's walked right into a trap.

 

Baron Strucker is smiling at a nearby window directly in her line of sight. He has one monster creature carrying him and a button connected to an array of wires leading to a machine in the middle of the hospital.

 

"Hail HYDRA." He says before pushing it and flying away.

 

"No!" Natasha screams.

 

Then and there, she's directly hit with a blast from a bomb that should kill her. It's lucky Peter had convinced Stark to include some stronger armor in her last suit update or she'd be long dead.

 

She can feel the exact moment part of her shoulder dislocates and several wounds oozing thick blood.

 

The building is coming down, pieces of concrete and brick trembling, her vision is swimming with black circles at the corners and she's barely crawled by dragging her legs towards the destroyed elevator for shelter. She has to dodge light fixtures crashing towards her head as she fat rolls onto the crumbling ceramic floor and kick past speeding stethoscopes and gurneys flying towards her before the middle of the fifteenth floor gives in like a sinkhole.

 

It's all in vain, however. She nearly gets to the silver doors but not before a metallic rod embedded with glass impales her leg fully. The bar can't be bigger than her forearm but she can feel it broken in pieces and sticking out the back of her leg too much for her to just pull it out. She narrowly heaves herself towards some safety before grabbing at her earpiece.

 

Okay, and ow Jesus fucking ow. She's had severe injuries, bullet wounds, stabbing scars and even car crashes but this isn't even comparable. It's like electric currents shocking her body nonstop; she's being cut open by the serrated support beam with rust and rough edges, tearing every muscle away from each other, razor sharp talons digging into the tender flesh, and having to witness the whole agonizing ordeal with a even modicum of control. The middle of her right leg is the worst of it; there's glass under her skin and some large piece of metal embedded in that's making her immobile, whatever the main portion of the bomb was made out of. She wants to scream the way people in shitty horror movies do, over dramatic and ear splitting.

 

"Help," She yells meekly, her energy drained as she coughs. "I need medevac if anyone can hear me!" The end of her sentence is choked off and she can't hear her comm's reply.

 

She can feel bile rising up her throat every time she glances at her leg, tissue and bone peaking out morbidly twisted. The leg wound is bleeding fast and she's alone in this fucking warehouse. God damn, Rogers’ isn’t even here, Sam is on the other side of the city and no one knows she's here. She's alone, dying alone like she fucking deserves for ever thinking she could be a hero instead of a villain. Jesus Christ, if she dies here and now, she’ll never have a chance to tell Peter how much she loves him. It's vicious the way it's all being robbed in front of her very eyes as the building continues to collapse with rubble and plastic toppling over. Fuck, fuck, fuck- Suddenly, a blur of blue and red rushes into the her line of sight and yanks her _hard_.

 

Spider-Man almost freezes when she yells out in pain but quickly recovers.

 

"This whole building's coming down!" She bawls and she can feel the shock starting to affect her too much. Her body could shut down any moment. "Move, Peter!"

 

He's shielding her from debris and slabs of ceiling, clutching her with one hand and using the other to swing them to the safety of inside the elevator before he places her down and heaves the doors shut. "No." His voice is laced with fear but nonetheless stubborn. "I can't move you of here or leave you; you'll _die_." There's so much meaning behind that one word and she can't do this, she can't say goodbye yet, please no.

 

"You shouldn't be here." She hisses through her teeth, vaguely coherent before shoving a hand towards his chest. "Get out, Spider-Man, or I will call Iron M-"

 

She's cut off by a large piece of ceiling almost decapitating her as Peter launches a web to stop it. The elevator rattles, rickety and unstable, as Peter reaches for a bag of medical supplies.

 

“I've got this,” Spider-Man says but Natasha knows his voice is trembling underneath the bravado of confidence. She can't bring herself to argue with him right now, not when she can barely move or lift her head from the ground. She doesn't exactly trust him but the pain is blistering and he's the only hope she has at the present moment. Peter uses one suit clad hand to apply pressure to the wound with a cloth from as he scrambles at the sight of the scalpel and tweezers. “Bite down on this.” He demands as he tosses her a nearby stethoscope and steadies her on the floor. They don't have much time, goddammit. She grabs it as she winces at her bruised arm and shoves it between her teeth. She gasps as soon as he rattles the rod sticking out from her leg. She feels him rip her legs free of her jumpsuit and restricts the blood flow on her thigh with a tourniquet.

 

"Natasha," She sees him yank his mask off and she's clenching the stethoscope in her hands tight enough for it to bend. "You need to breathe." His voice quivers a little but his eyes are piercing and heavy with determination. One thing is clear; he's not letting her die.

When she inhales, she feels the metal slice against her flesh as his hand pushes her shoulder back to keep her down. She's noticed all sound being tuned out by some roar she assumed was the Hulk when the bomb initially went off. She's only now realized that it's her, screaming bloody murder at the fucking pain. She wants to kick and scream but Peter's grip is secure, holding her in place as she feels him delicately remove scraps of glass and metal tediously. It feels like it take hours but it can't be more than five minutes.

 

He's stitching her up when Natasha is almost fully out of it, eyes rolled back into her sockets. Peter bandages her shin up with a thick cast-like compress. It's not like he has an unlimited inventory here. He yanks off the gauze and she can feel blood and feeling rush back into her leg.

 

Peter pries open the doors with a bit of a stagger when he reaches for her limp body and shoots another web out where she can't see. She can feel the elevator lurch a few feet down as he lifts her up, bridal style, before saying, "I've got you, Widow. I've always got you." The last thing she recognizes is what remains of the building above crumbling towards her and the rush of wind soaring past. And then, blackness.

 

\-------

 

When she comes to, everything is white and smells of strong disinfectant and day old gravel.

 

She's in medbay at the Compound and can see some machine scanning her the lower half of her body with green lasers. She quickly remember that it's Banner's version of Cho's cradle. There are several machines hooked up to her arm via I.V., she can't move too much without her energy dipping significantly and her leg is bruised, but in general, she's still in one piece under her blue hospital gown. The room is cool with air conditioning and everything is hazy; heavy sedatives, she concludes She can see the door directly in front of her, a digital clock with the time, 5:42 P.M., and several holograms displaying what she assumes are her vitals; to her right hand side is a different picture.

 

Peter is hunched on a dingy, stained chair overlooking her hospital bed, fast asleep, knees tucked to his chest, earbuds dangling out of his ears and a large bruise adorning the left side of his face, sprouting from his cheekbone down to his jawline in an ugly purplish red contusion. His phone is resting on his knee and he's still in the Spider-Man suit.

 

"He wouldn't leave your side all morning." A high pitched, female voice articulates from her left. May Parker is standing by the window on her other side, smiling wearily with dark eye bags and a long beige cardigan on.

 

"I tried to keep him out it it." Her words are hoarse from screaming and her tone is vulnerable and pleading, begging for forgiveness for hurting her kid, as May hands her a glass of water when Natasha leans up in a sitting position.

 

"I know you did. I'm glad he didn't." May gestures her head at her leg as the latter gulps down water like she's dying.

 

"Excuse me?" She can't hide her surprise. She may have a good poker face but she always will fold eventually when it comes to Peter's well being. May is surprisingly not as murderous as she thought she'd be and, maybe it's the drugs, but the usual alarm bells she notices when someone is about to strike aren't ringing.

 

"Dr. Banner says you would've bled out if Peter hadn't operated then and there. It'd be a shame if Spider-Man had ignored his migraine from a taser." May raises an amused eyebrow at the end and genuinely smiles at her.

 

"I should've gotten him out of there quicker." Nat mumbles, flicking her gaze at Peter's injuries. She's concerned that he hasn't been examined properly if he's been here all day and is _still i_ n that fucking suit.

 

"He's not going to stay away, no matter how hard any of you try." May sighs.

 

"You can try and wrap him in bubble wrap all you want, Nat, he's always going to sacrifice himself first." _That_ makes Natasha pause and slowly looks at May in the eyes. There's something strong there, the same look she saw last night while with Peter. 

 

"He's got an eye on his second favorite parent, right, Mrs. Parker?" She jests lightly. The atmosphere in the room is a bit too sentimental for her usual deadpan demeanor. She expects Peter's aunt to banter back and pull Stark out of her purse with a trivial airiness. May Parker's smile is anything but trivial as she pats Nat's hand and moves towards the front of her bed.

 

“Keep an eye on him back, alright Romanoff?” May says with the same look Natasha gives Peter and promise in her gaze as she turns and walks out the hospital room door.

 

As she settles back into her bed and reaches towards her side table for her phone, the glint of something shining catches her eye.

 

Clutched in Peter’s left hand is the alexandrite necklace, peaking between his suit fingers. She can see his chain securely around his neck, the gemstone reflecting different colors towards her in the late afternoon sun.

 

So, maybe she didn't want to get attached, initially, when she met a wannabe spider superhero: maybe it's because they’ve both got tragic pasts and baggage to carry; maybe neither the Black Widow or Spider-Man are the perfect example of what superheroes should strive to be. Neither Avenger is exactly flawless, hot-headed tempers, disregard for the rules mixed with somewhat grey morals and a proclivity to seek their own justice. But both of them have that spider-sense that looks out for each other, like eight eyes on their backs, one the result of a failed radioactive spider experiment and, the other, the byproduct of the KGB’s mistakes and an agent’s gut instinct. It doesn't matter in the end. They're both always going to be stuck together, like a family.

 

Almost like a mother and son.

 

“Yeah,” Natasha says, curling closer to her favorite Avenger. “I’ve got all eight on him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof.  
> Took me forever, please forgive me.  
> Spider mom is best mom. I love Natasha's character development.  
> 100% ripped of a video game called To The Moon for Natasha's inner turmoil.  
> I'm gonna take a bit of a break from writing to focus on that Clint/Natasha thing going. It's also going to be apart of the whole gemstone theme.  
> Endgame is coming and I'm so unprepared but excited. Do you have tickets yet? I got mine an hour after they launched.  
> Lots of love and thank you so much for the support, I thrive off of it.  
> Leave me a comment.  
> Stay lovely, lovelies.  
> \- Reshma

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I'm not sure if I'll get my mutant fic up in time before Endgame but I'll try.


End file.
